Darcy and the Young Knight’s Quest
Page 128
CHAPTER 21
“Da, I am not ready to part with my trophy just yet,” Ben said as the servant who accompanied them on their fishing party prepared to return to the manor house with the day’s catch. How proud and excited the little fellow was over his conquest.
“I see no harm in your accompanying Mr. Hall—assuming your father does not object,” said Carlton.
“May I?”
“Yes, you may. However, you are not to wander off on your own. Agreed?”
Ben readily nodded and then fell in step with the tall, lanky young man who also fondly remembered Ben having once resided at Camberworth. Darcy and Carlton watched until Ben and Mr. Hall were well out of sight.
“Ben loves it here,” said Carlton.
“Indeed.”
“I cannot help but consider that, were my father alive, Ben would still consider Camberworth his home.”
“I find it interesting that you would speak this way, Carlton.”
“I say only the truth.”
The two strode along in uncomfortable quietness.
After a moment, Carlton broke the silence. “I really must thank you for bringing my nephew here today. Perhaps you and his mother will allow me to spend even more time with him, so he and I might get to know each other.”
“I see no reason that will not occur with time. Surely you do not suppose one can establish over the course of a few weeks what normally unfolds over the course of several years.”
The gentlemen continued going on in that way, but for Darcy one purpose was clear. After decades of estrangement from the elder Mr. Carlton, Henry Carlton had finally returned to Camberworth reclaiming his birth right. Darcy did not fault him for that. However, Carlton’s return also evidenced a kind of neglect that was reflected wherever anyone would look. Darcy’s solicitors had unearthed intelligence on Camberworth’s solvency. In principle, Carlton was a wealthy landowner, but in reality he was in dire need of funds. If there were a chance in the world that Darcy could acquire the estate, he supposed he would be doing all parties involved a great service.
Darcy said, “You and I have already discussed the fact that there is a provision that allows Camberworth’s entail to be broken, given that all living heirs must be agreeable. You ought to know that my solicitors have been in contact with Mrs. Carlton. It seems she is not nearly as concerned with her son’s potential birth right as one might expect, what with your being a single man and a relatively young one at that.”
“You think you have it all figured out, do you not, Darcy? Well, I have conducted a bit of investigation too. Just as there is no amount of money that would tempt you to part with your dear Pemberley, likewise there is nothing that would tempt me to part with Camberworth. You are wasting your time, for I shall never sell.”
Darcy halted his steps, obliging Carlton to do likewise. His voice resolute, Darcy said, “My years of negotiating various affairs of business have taught me a great many things, one of them being—never say never.”
Lydia would not be satisfied until she and her family were once again invited to a lavish dinner party at Netherfield. She insisted that, once she became mistress, such affairs would be commonplace. Why wait? Her behaviour was everything mortifying, and no one could be impressed with her, other than Mrs. Bennet, who, as a consequence of Lydia’s advantageous alliance, was her former self once more.
Throughout the evening, Mrs. Bennet encouraged her daughter in every way to regard anything that brought her displeasure—be it the meals, the furnishings, even a particular servant—as something to be rectified once Lydia became mistress of Netherfield.
There was no want of discourse once the Netherfield party and the Longbourn guests took their places at dinner—at least, not on Lydia’s part. The bride and her mother could not talk fast enough about how things would be once Lydia became mistress. Untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless, Lydia personified everything a young woman ought not to be. And such a woman was to be mistress of this place—one of the finest homes in all of Hertfordshire? Everyone who would be embarrassed by the unfolding events was exceedingly so, particularly Jane, who often looked at Elizabeth, and no one was happier than the two eldest sisters when, finally, the meal was over.
Elizabeth was appalled, and Jane was embarrassed, and when they could, they spoke on the matter and how it even came about.
“Lydia has always been outrageous with a tendency to place too much stock in her own significance. Now it seems that years of bad behaviour are to be rewarded with Mr. Bingley’s hand.” Try as Jane might to hide her dismay, Elizabeth knew her sister too well to suppose she was truly unaffected. “I am sorry, Jane.”
“There is no need to apologise to me. If anyone, it is Mr. Bingley who should receive condolences—from all of us.”
Elizabeth threw a glance across the room. There Bingley stood with Darcy. Gone was his amiable smile, and in its place was a look of confusion. That befuddled expression has graced his countenance since the day my husband discovered Lydia emerging from Bingley’s apartment.
“I do believe that is one of the most uncharitable things I have ever heard you say, dearest Jane. It appears that you are just as sceptical of Lydia’s account of events as I am.”
“In truth, I am. However, I find it hard to believe our sister could even conceive of such a scheme, and it is for that reason alone that I am forced to suspend my belief of everything I know and trust about Charl—Mr. Bingley.”
“You were about to refer to the gentleman by his given name. Does that mean—”
“Oh, Lizzy, I know what you are about to say. You are concerned I might harbour a tender regard for Mr. Bingley.”
“Do you?”